Euphemistically Speaking
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock is searching for the words to make Molly his. Can John help? Sherlolly


Dr. John Watson was bored. It wasn't the almost soul crushing sense of malaise and ennui usually associated with his best friend and sometimes crime solving partner, Sherlock Holmes. Definitely not the kind which sent one in search of nicotine patches, or something worse. Or caused one to paint smiley faces on the sitting room wall to be used later for target practice. It was merely your run of the mill sense of nothing to do which drove him to his friend's flat at 221B Baker Street.

John didn't knock. Having formerly resided at the flat with Holmes, he had never gotten out of the habit of just walking in. On this particular occasion, he found his friend occupied with his laptop, studying the screen, and even occasionally chuckling. Since a chuckling Sherlock Holmes was somewhat of a rarity, John decided to look over his shoulder to discern the cause of his light spirits.

"Sherlock, why in the world are you looking up euphemisms of sexual intercourse?", the doctor said with not a small amount of surprise.

"Purely research, I assure you, John. Had you still been living here, I suppose I could have simply asked you. You did employ rather colorful expressions, as I recall. 'Butter the biscuit?'', 'hanky panky?' Really, John? Rather tame according to my research!"

"And what are you researching, mate? Or rather, why are you researching it?"

I find myself in need of a more colloquial expression for having coitus than is currently in my vocabulary, John. Something expressive, yet with a touch of delicacy. But I'm afraid I got lost in some of the more, shall we say 'outlandish', euphemisms."

"I see. Haven't you found anything suitable?"

"Nothing yet, I suppose. Tell me, John, if someone were to consider their genitalia ugly, why would they desire to 'bump it' with someone else's, also presumably, ugly ones?"

"Ah, bumping uglies, eh? Not one of my favorites?"

"There are a number of dancing metaphors here, however. 'Dancing in the sheets', 'horizontal hula', 'no pants dance', and my personal favorite, 'mattress mambo'!. You do recall how much I love to dance, John."

"Sherlock, is this for a case?"

"No, of course not, John. It's for personal use." Sherlock went back to studying the computer screen. "Why would someone 'knock boots'? Wouldn't it be more advantageous, not to mention comfortable, to remove your boots before attempting such…"

"Not if you're attempting it attempting it in an alleyway, or any outdoor venue, I suppose…"

"And then there are the simple one-word denotations such as 'hump', 'shag', 'boink', and the ever popular 'f...' "

"Alright, alright, I get it. Stop, or I'll have to disinfect my ears when I get home!"

"I'm sorry if I am offending your delicate sensibilities, John. I simply telling you what my research has uncovered. One euphemism for that last euphemism, which seems redundant, after all, a euphemism for a euphmism, is 'foxtrot uniform charlie kilo'. Which does seem a bit too lengthy to me. Some men could finish the act before the finish the phrase…"

"Not if they do it right, Sherlock!" John was now giggling along with his friend, both of them almost seeming like two schoolboy discovering Playboy Magazine for the first time. John continued speaking on the topic. "Don't you think that some of these phrases seem to engender rather higher expectations in your female partner, Sherlock? 'Hiding the salami'? 'Riding the boloney pony'? I mean, what if your, ah, member, is a bit smaller than a salami, or a baloney? Maybe a frankfurter? Or even a cocktail weenie? Couldn't you be accused of false advertising if you employed those particular euphemisms, mate?"

"Maybe you could say you wanted to play 'hide the sausage'? Would that be better, do you think?" Sherlock responded, as both men were gasping with laughter. "Depending on your intending audience, you could go the scifi route. I've found 'slytherin your hufflepuff', 'opening the gates of Mordor', and, one of my favorite references to Lord of the Rings, 'the battle of balls deep'!"

"Oh, god, Sherlock, please stop! I can't imagine anything less romantic than any of the phrases you have uttered. I guarantee that none of those would succeed in getting anyone laid…"

"Another euphemism, John!"

"But you still haven't told me why? Why all this?"

"I have decided, John, that it is time that Molly and I should take our relationship to a more, uh, physical level, and…"

"Wait, what, who?" John had immediately stopped laughing, and was staring at his friend with a combination of confusion and concern. "What relationship, Sherlock? Since when do you and Molly have a relationship?"

"Of course we have a relationship, John. We've known each other for seven years. She is one of the people I call friend. I care deeply for her…"

"You care for me, too, Sherlock. I know you do. And Mary. And Mrs. Hudson, and even Lestrade. But I don't suppose you're looking to use any of those phrases on any of us. Or, at least, I sincerely hope not!"

"Of course not, John. Despite Mrs. Hudson's notions, I have never had any desire to play 'hide the salami' with you...'

"Are you sure of your choice of meat product, mate?"

"I stand my by choice of euphemism, John." The detective sneered at his friend, who just chuckled in response. "But I am afraid you are correct in your assumption that none of these rather purple verbiage will achieve the desired effect with my pathologist…"

"Meaning?"

"Such phrases aren't going to get me laid, John!"

"Sherlock, are you sure that's what you want? And if you do, you're going to have to explain to me why you want it. Molly is my friend, too, after all, and I don't want to see her hurt."

"Why would you assume that I would want to hurt her?"

"I didn't mean that you would intentionally hurt her, mate. But you will if this is just some sort of experiment. Or if you just want to, shall we say, scratch an itch."

"John, I assure you, this is not an experiment. And, if I was experiencing such an itch involving my genitalia, I would have consulted you sooner, in your capacity as my personal physician!"

"Sherlock!"

"I know, John. But I assure you, I have no such itch to scratch, literally or figuratively. I did quite a bit of itch relief during my teenage years, and my time at uni. All kinds of itches, John. I'm not particularly proud of it, nor am I particularly ashamed, either. I exposed myself to many different types of experiences, with many different types of people."

"Both sexes, then?"

"Do I have to remind you that I went to an all boys boarding school, John. Needs must, as they say."

"You don't have to remind me, Sherlock, as you never actually told me about your schooling. Was it a posh school? I always had you down for being posh! I bet it was Eton!"

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Mycroft went to Eton. I would never go to the same school as Mycroft! I matriculated at Harrow."

"I knew it! Posh to the very core. Are you rich, too? You owe me a lot of cab fare if you are, you know?"

"Are we talking about personally, or family trusts, John?"

"Bloody hell, you git, if you have to ask the question, I already know the answer! My accountant, meaning my wife, will be in touch…"

"Fine, John, but can we get back to the discussion at hand. I shall try to explain. I care for Molly Hooper. Deeply. I have long assumed that she cared for me, and I had hoped, for some time now, that she would indicate her receptiveness to a physical relationship. But I begin to fear that I have waited too long. I have attempted to broach the subject to no avail…"

"Broach how, mate?"

"Well, I had been informed, evidently not reliably so, that if a woman asks you up to her flat for coffee late at night, you may reasonably expect that coffee is not what she is actually offering."

"And?" John goaded him as he hesitated.

"I got coffee, John. An excellent Colombian brew, but just coffee, nonetheless." John Watson snickered as the detective continued. "Then using the popular expression the The Woman used so often to get my attention, I asked Molly if she would like to have dinner."

"Well?"

"She said she wasn't hungry, but thanked me. Politely."

"Sounds like you're screwed, mate!." John spoke with some sympathy.

"It would seem not, John.," Sherlock said in a discouraged tone, and John finally recognized his own unfortunate use of yet another euphemism.

"Sorry."

"Well, so am I. And so you found me tonight, sitting at my laptop, researching sexual innuendo."

"I really am sorry, Sherlock. Perhaps I can help. Can I give you some advice…"

"You already have, John."

"I don't recall saying a word. Only laughing along with you at some of the more colorful terms, Sherlock. How can you say…"

"That damned voice of yours which I carry around in my head, John. It can be very persuasive, you know. So I allowed it to dictate my texts to Molly, and she's on her way over as we speak, hopefully to have some 'dinner', followed by several cups of 'coffee'! So I would appreciate it if you would make yourself scarce!" Sherlock pushed himself away from his laptop, stood up to cross the sitting room and flop down on his couch.

"Good god, man, aren't you going to tell me what I said!"

"I assumed you knew." Sherlock smiled a genuine smile of affection, and gratitude. "I told her that I loved her. Dearly. That I had loved her for quite some time, and I was an an idiot to wait this long to tell her. I then reassured her that this was not an experiment, not a one off, and that I intended to pursue her until I convinced her of that fact. Thankfully, she took a lot less convincing than I feared. She should be here any moment."

"Damn, I'm good, aren't I, Sherlock?"

"Yes, well, that's beside the point, isn't it? Shouldn't you be going home to the wife and kiddie? Perhaps you could 'play with the box the kid came in'?"

"Oh god, Holmes, that was awful!"

"Well, I didn't want to have wasted my entire evening, John. I had to use at least one of those phrases! Perhaps Mary will get a laugh out of it."

"Believe me, mate, a laugh is the last thing I want when I get into bed with my wife!"

Both men then heard the downstairs door open, and the sound of small feet hurrying up the stairs. John quickly rose to leave, saying with a wink, "Don't do anything I wouldn't so, Sherlock!"

As Molly entered, she could tell from the slight blush on John Watson's face that he knew exactly why she was there. And the additional wink he gave her, as well, only confirmed the fact.

"Hope you have a lovely evening, Molly."

"I know I will, John. And thank you. I know he couldn't have come up with those lovely words without you."

"I think you underestimate him, Dr. Hooper. Almost as much as he overestimates himself!" John then took his leave as Sherlock gathered the small woman into his arms. He was whistling as he walked down the stairs and out of the door. Continuing with Sherlock's earlier dancing metaphors, John Watson went home to do a little "bed boogying" with his wife!


End file.
